


A Goal of Happiness

by Kit_Kat21



Series: (More than) Just a Dream [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Modern Westeros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 16:44:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12016866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kit_Kat21/pseuds/Kit_Kat21
Summary: Deep down, she knew though. Jon was handsome and she had never really considered Jon to be her family; whether that be a half-brother or a cousin or anything else.He was just Jon.And that made her feel awful, because obviously, Jon looked to her as family if he was here to see her.xxA mix of the modern world and an old-fashioned world.





	A Goal of Happiness

…

Sansa still remembered the first time she and Jon kissed. 

She knew she would never forget it, nor would she want to. But the memory remained so fresh in her mind all of this time later, she felt as if it had just happened the night before. Sometimes, she found herself wishing that it hadn’t happened at all yet so she could live through it again. She and Jon had kissed thousands of times since their first, but still, the first kiss was somehow the most important. It set presedence for everything that was to follow it. 

They were spending more time together – which, she admitted, took her by surprise. She and Jon had never been close – even with him around the house all of the time and both believing that they were half-siblings. That just wasn’t what they had. He was always so much closer to the other Stark children and Sansa was always off, doing her own thing, spending time with her own friends. She rarely thought of Jon Snow and she didn’t think that he ever thought of her. They were part of the same family, but they were just… well, she wasn’t Robb or Arya. She was Sansa, the Stark who was – almost painfully – different from her siblings and her siblings were who Jon preferred. 

But then Ned sat them all down – after speaking with Jon – and told them the truth about Jon’s true parentage and how Ned, twenty-one years ago, had promised his sister, Lyanna, that he would keep it a secret from Jon until he was old enough to know. All five children had been in shock, silently staring at their father, and then their mother, before back to their father. Catelyn Stark took her husband’s hand and Sansa knew that this whole time, her mother had known that Jon wasn’t Ned’s son from an affair he had. 

This whole time, she had known Jon as a nephew. 

Sansa had always wondered why her mother was always so kind and loving to Jon – as kind and loving as she was to her own children – when Jon was living proof; a constant reminder of her husband’s infidelity. Sansa had honestly always admired her mother for that because Sansa didn’t know if she, herself, could have treated the boy her husband had had, off sleeping with someone who wasn’t her, as Catelyn had always treated Jon. 

And this was why. Because Jon was a Stark. Not just from their branch of the tree.

Sansa didn’t know how she felt. Shocked, yes, and yet… it suddenly made sense to her. Her father had a picture of Aunt Lyanna framed on one of the shelves in his office and Sansa always stared at the picture of her beautiful aunt who had passed away far too young and she had thought, more than once, “Jon looks like Aunt Lyanna.”

She was the one to find him in that dark, dingy bar near the Wall because even though they had never been close before, he was still Jon and he was still family and there wasn’t anything Sansa wouldn’t do for anyone in the Stark family. Ned Stark had instilled that lesson early in all of his children’s lives. Nothing was more important than family.

She then took him back to her home where she made him shower and she made him coffee and they then sat on the couch in her living room, he helping her grade papers from the class she was student teaching for as she worked towards her degree in primary education and there was an episode of some rerun of some sitcom on mute on the television. 

She laughed as he put three yellow smiley-face stickers on top of one paper because the student had gotten every answer correct and he smiled a little at her and she was almost amazed at how comfortable she felt with him in that moment even though she and Jon had never been completely alone like this before. 

“I’ve always thought that you didn’t like me that much,” Sansa admitted rather suddenly as she kept her eyes down on the stack of papers in her lap. 

Jon’s head flew up at that and he looked at her, his eyes slightly wide with surprise. “Why would you think that?” He managed to sputter.

Sansa gave a shrug and a small smile then though she wasn’t entirely sure why. That moment didn’t feel right for a smile to be in it. “You, Robb and Arya are always teasing me,” she answered.

“They do, I don’t. I just… stand there,” he said and then smirked as he heard how stupid that was. 

“Guilty by association,” she said, bumping his shoulder playfully with hers and this time, when she smiled, it felt like the right thing to do. They were both quiet for a moment and Sansa looked at him from the corner of her eye. 

She knew Jon Snow was a handsome young man. Very handsome. But she had never allowed herself to follow that train of thought since he was her half-brother. Or so they had all thought. 

“You’re intimidating, you know,” Jon spoke then and she turned her head to look at him, surprised by that, and the fact that she was, it made Jon let out a laugh. “You have no idea, do you?”

“I am not,” Sansa argued and that only made him laugh again. “Stop,” she said with her own laughter and she bumped his shoulder again. “I’m not, Jon. Why would you say that?”

Jon was quiet and she kept looking at him, wondering if he would even answer her at all. 

“It’s the way you walk,” Jon then provided. 

“What’s wrong with the way I walk?” Sansa wondered, her brow wrinkled. No one had ever said there was anything wrong with the way she walked. She had taken ballet and etiquette classes for nearly twelve years. She thought – she knew – her posture was impeccable. 

Jon smirked a little, shaking his head and looking down to his own papers in his lap. “You walk like you have all the confidence in the world.”

Sansa looked back to him, unable to keep from frowning. “You know that’s not true, Jon,” she said quietly. 

Or did he know? 

Maybe it had been true – at one time. But that was only because it was part of the lessons ingrained into her from an early age. She had to take etiquette lessons starting almost as soon as she entered primary school; how to walk with her chin slightly up, back always straight while walking or while sitting. She very well could cross this room right now with a book balanced on top of her head. 

_“Always act and carry yourself as if no one in the same room, except your husband, is your equal.”_

So much pressure had been put upon her from such a young age and she had never taken a moment to stop and wonder what the point of it all was because that was simply how things were done. She was to be the perfect woman in every way that she could be; and it still hadn’t helped her betrothed in being faithful to her. And she didn’t know what to do about it because everything she had done, all of the things she had learned and all of her training, it hadn’t helped her in the end. 

“Sansa,” Jon then said her name so quietly and so gently, it made something in her chest twist. She didn’t think anyone had ever said her name like that. 

It took her a moment to realize that she was crying; tears slowly trailing down her cheeks. She let out an empty laugh as she wiped them away furiously and she shook her head rapidly. 

“I’m sorry,” she said to him even though she had no idea why. Was she apologizing for crying or still having a part of her be upset with Harry and what he did? “I’m a bit of a mess and I don’t mean to be.”

Jon didn’t say anything for a moment and slowly, his hand moved towards her and she let him take her hand in his. His skin was rough and warm and she looked down at their joined hands and how pale she was against him. His thumb began rubbing circles on her skin and she wondered if he even realized that he was doing that. 

“Me, too,” he then said quietly and she let out a laugh again – one far more genuine – and Jon looked at her and they shared the smallest smile before she leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder. 

And that night, he slept in her guest room and she woke up the next morning to find him in the kitchen with Lady, frying eggs and strips of bacon for them to have for breakfast, and there was a part of herself that was so happy to sit across from him at the table in her kitchen, eating with him and smiling and laughing with him and having him all to herself without any of the other Stark siblings around. 

He left a couple of hours later – after his clothes from last night she had tossed into the washer were dry – and she gave him a hug on the front porch as the cab he had called pulled into her driveway. 

“Thank you, Sansa,” he said softly, yet firmly, his eyes staring into hers. 

“Any time,” she said with a faint smile. 

And then he had left and she honestly had just thought that that would be it. She had pulled him from a drunken stupor in a bar, but surely, he would go to Robb and Arya from now on when he needed help getting through this life-altering event to happen to him. She was just Sansa. He was much closer to her other siblings than he was to her and why would he ever turn to her? He hadn’t this time. She had been the one to find him. If any of the others had found him, he would have gone with them. 

She and Jon had never been close. It was just the way of things. 

…

So, of course, she was completely taken him aback when she saw him just three days later. 

Sansa student-taught at the elementary school in Deepwood Motte where she helped Mrs. Glover with her third grade class and each day, after the final bell rang and the students all hopped to their feet and pushed in their little chairs and grabbed their things, racing out, calling out good night to both Mrs. Glover and Ms. Stark, Sansa never doubted that this was exactly what she wanted to do for the rest of her life. 

She was helping Mrs. Glover turn chairs over onto the tables when they heard a throat of someone being cleared in the doorway and both turned to see who it was. Sansa couldn’t help, but let out the tiniest gasp.

“Jon.”

Sansa couldn’t help, but sound and look both surprised. And just a little confused. 

And actually, Jon looked to be feeling the same. 

“Is everything alright?” She asked as she closed the space between them, concern now taking over. He smelled like cigarette smoke, but at least he didn’t smell like he had just peeled himself off the floor of a pub loo. “You’ve been smoking!” She then exclaimed, agahst. Without thinking, she reached out and smacked him in the chest. “Jon! It took you forever to be able to quit and stay quit!” She smacked him again and Jon let out a chuckle as he tried to protect himself against her surprisingly strong whacks. 

“Does she treat the students like this?” Jon asked and Sansa remembered that Mrs. Glover was watching them. 

With a gasp, Sansa spun to look towards the woman who she worked with and who she had come to greatly admire and aspire to be like. The older woman was watching the display with a smile as her eyes settled on Jon, now standing behind Sansa, still in the doorway. 

“Just the ones caught smoking,” Mrs. Glover teased. 

Jon gave the woman a smile and then looked back to Sansa, that smile fading as Sansa turned back towards him. “I’ll wait for you in the hallway, yeah?” He suggested and she nodded at that, still having no idea why he had come all of the way to her elementary school. “Take your time,” he then added before giving another smile and a polite head nod towards Mrs. Glover before leaving the classroom. 

Sansa found herself standing there, watching after him, and she exhaled a deep breath. 

She had no idea why Jon would come to see her. Her, of all of the Starks; of anyone else in his life. To Jon Snow, she was hardly anyone. At least, she was fairly convinced that that had been the truth just a week ago. 

“Well, you’re no good to me now,” Mrs. Glover smiled as she went to the chalkboard to begin erasing everything that had been written on there that day. 

Sansa shook her head slightly as if shaking herself from her thoughts. “What do you mean?”

Mrs. Glover just kept on smiling. “If I had a man who looked like that, standing out just there in the hallway, waiting for me, I certainly wouldn’t want to help me clean up.”

Sansa felt her cheeks burst into warmth at that, knowing that Jon was just outside the classroom and would be able to hear the woman. 

She found herself shaking her head. “Jon’s not like that. He’s family,” Sansa did her best to explain and yet, for some reason, the words sounded both wrong on her tongue and in her head. She didn’t know why they would though. 

Jon was family. 

Why would that sound wrong to her? It was the truth. 

True, they had never been close to one another – two people always interacting together simply because they were always in the same room – but still, family was family… Sansa did her best to swallow a sudden dry patch in her throat. Deep down, she knew though. Jon was handsome and she had never really considered Jon to be her family; whether that be a half-brother or a cousin or anything else. 

He was just Jon. 

And that made her feel awful, because obviously, Jon looked to her as family if he was here to see her. 

Sansa sighed softly to herself and then went to the coat closet where she and Mrs. Glover kept their belongings. She did her best to not notice the woman’s knowing smile. 

“See you tomorrow,” Sansa bid to the woman. 

“Have a wonderful evening, dear,” Mrs. Glover continued smiling and Sansa felt herself blush because the woman had absolutely no subtlety. 

Out in the hallway, Jon was leaning aginst the row of lockers opposite her classroom, scrolling through something on his phone, but he looked up as soon as he saw her and put his phone back into his coat pocket. Sansa couldn’t help, but smile a little at that. It might not have seemed like anything to Jon, but in Sansa’s mind, she had spent more times than she could count, telling her fiancé at least twice – oftentimes three times – to put his phone away because she was talking and she wanted him to listen. 

“Hope you didn’t rush in there on account of me,” Jon said, pushing himself off the lockers to stand straight.

Sansa shook her head. “We were just about done,” she said. “Can you hold these?” She asked and then without waiting for his response, she pushed the black ballet flat shoes into his hands. She then slid herself out of the high heels she wore, sighing with relief as she did. Jon smiled a little as he handed her the flats and she now slipped those on. “Much better,” she said, leaving her heels on the floor for the moment so she could button her coat and wrap her scarf around her neck. “Is everything alright?” She then asked, looking to Jon, and was a bit surprised when he nodded his head and seemed to mean it. 

“Just had to get out of Wintertown for a bit,” he answered. 

“And you came to see me?” Sansa heard herself ask before she could help it. 

Jon smiled his little smile at that – his smile that always seemed so shy and unsure; as if he wasn’t entirely certain that he should be smiling at all. 

He shrugged, but didn’t give any further answer. “Are you hungry?” He asked instead. “I saw that there was a tea room right down the street and I know how much you love-”

“No, not there,” Sansa interrupted and rather forcefully. Jon blinked at her and she felt her cheeks flush. She cleared her throat then. “I’m sorry, but could we go somewhere else? Harry and I…” she trailed off, not needing to say anything more for Jon to understand. 

“Of course,” he said without thinking and she gave him a relieved smile. 

Outside, the bitter Northern winter wind slammed into their faces once they stepped from the elementary school, but neither hardly even noticed; more than enough used to the unforgiving season that seemed to stretch on for years. 

Leaving their cars in the school lot, they headed down the street, Sansa leading him to a warm, little pub. 

Sitting across from one another in a heavy wooden booth against the wall, Jon ordered himself a pint, but then looked to Sansa as if expecting her to say anything. Sansa just smiled and rolled her eyes before ordering herself a Coke from the waitress as she unwound her scarf and shrugged off her coat. 

“You’re a grown man,” Sansa said once it was just them again. 

“Considering your assault in regards to me smoking, I wasn’t too sure,” he said with that smile of his and Sansa rolled her eyes again, doing her best to keep from smiling, but hopelessly failing. “How was your day?” He then asked. 

Sansa stared at him across from her as if she had never heard the question being asked before. 

The waitress appeared with their drinks and Sansa heard herself ordering the fish and chips without even really realizing her brain was working without her and Jon echoed the same for himself and the waitress left their table once again and they were alone. Jon took a sip of his beer and his eyes stayed on her. 

“You’re looking at me as if you’ve never seen me before,” Jon finally commented. 

That seemed to shake Sansa out of it. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I…” she made herself pause, suddenly finding herself too embarrassed to admit it, but Jon was looking at her, waiting, and his eyes were so focused and so kind… she had never noticed the how warm the gray of his eyes were until now. 

She felt herself flush at the thought and she was glad the pub was a little on the low light side of things. 

This was Jon. She was not allowed to think of how warm his eyes were. 

“Harry never asked me that question,” Sansa finally got herself to answer. The warmth was snuffed out from Jon’s eyes almost immediately and in its place, there was a hardness and a cold fury, growing, with each passing second. Sansa found herself reaching across the table, taking his hand in hers. “It’s alright.”

“No, Sansa,” Jon said with a shake of his head. “It’s really not.”

His thumb began rubbing circles on her skin – just like he had done on her sofa – and again, she had to wonder if he even realized that he was doing that.

“He better hope me or Robb never run into him again,” he then said in such a low voice, Sansa wondered if he meant to say that to himself; if he was just thinking his thoughts out loud. 

She found herself smiling and she lowered his face to look down to the table before he could notice and she, once again, was grateful for the pub lighting. She didn’t want Jon to see how much that meant to her. She knew how protective her siblings were towards her – even little Rickon. Even Jon. They had always been the ones to punch a person in the face who even made Sansa the least bit uncomfortable. It drove Catelyn Stark crazy and Ned Stark pretended to be exasperated with his children’s’ behaviors as well, but they all knew that he was silently grateful in the way they kept Sansa safe. 

Sansa may have been the second oldest Stark – third oldest if including Jon – but she knew how she was viewed. She was a Lady. That was how she was raised and that was how everyone viewed her. And usually, it didn’t bother her at all. That was just who her brothers and Arya and Jon were and she loved them for it. Being kept so safe by them had always made her feel loved and special. 

But it had also felt stifling at times. She was a Lady, yes, but she was capable of taking care of herself. 

She had thought she loved that about Harry because she had thought that he had understood that. 

One night, they had been out to a pub – crowded due to the band playing that evening. Harry had been standing nearby, talking with a couple of his mates, and Sansa had been at the bar, getting herself another drink. A slightly drunken man had been doing his best to hit on her and was getting far too close to her for her to be comfortable, but Harry hadn’t done anything to stop him. Whereas Robb or Jon, if they had been there, would have punched this man’s jaw without thinking of it twice, Harry hadn’t done anything and at the time, Sansa had thought that that was because Harry believed she was strong enough to handle it herself without always turning and relying on someone else. 

It took Sansa a bit of time to learn that no, Harry didn’t do anything because he thought she didn’t need him to. No. Harry didn’t do anything simply because he hadn’t cared that much. 

And what made it all the worse was, Sansa had tried to convince herself that she actually preferred Harry not caring that much to punch a guy in the face who got too close to her. She had always loved the stories of noble Knights, swooping to the rescue of the fair Maidens, and growing up, she had always roped her brothers and Jon and Arya to roleplay with her. 

But with Harry, Sansa had told herself that those were just children’s fairytales and she was too old to believe that anyone acted like that in this real life. 

“My day was wonderful,” Sansa finally answered Jon’s question, lifting her face once again to find him looking at her, and he smiled at her answer. “We had the children draw what they love most about living in the North. And one of our students, a very cheeky boy named Aleric, left his page blank and when I asked him about it, he responded that his favorite thing was all of the snow here. Hence, his blank white piece of paper,” she told with a smile. 

Jon let out a chuckle. “Sounds like something one of us would have done.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Sansa agreed with a smile. 

Their baskets of fish and chips appeared and Sansa slowly pulled her hand back, still tucked into Jon’s grasp, and she told herself that she had just been imagining Jon’s own reluctance to loosen his fingers. 

Sansa squirted a dollop of ketchup into the space next to her chips, but didn’t offer Jon the bottle. They had eaten enough baskets of fish and chips together over the years for her to know that Jon didn’t like ketchup with his chips. Just like Jon knew that Sansa loved to squeeze the wedge of lemon over her fish and she smiled as he passed her his own lemon wedge for her to have. 

“And how was your day?” Sansa asked in return. “Robb said you and him went out last night.” 

Jon smirked a little at that and then paused to take a sip of his pint. “I think it was more for Robb than for me. I drank water the whole night, told him it was Vodka, and I had to practically carry your sad sack of a brother up to his flat because he would have had to crawl up the stairs otherwise.” Sansa giggled at that, but didn’t say anything to that as she was chewing on a piece of her fish at the moment. “And then today, my professor allowed me to make up an exam I had missed during the past week.”

“How’d you do?” Sansa asked once she had swallowed. 

Jon was now the one to pause as he chewed and swallowed. He shrugged. “Alright, I suppose. Not too sure if being a lawyer is my calling though.”

Sansa gave him a teasing smile. “I feel like you say that every other week.”

“And I haven’t said it for a while so it seems like I’m due,” Jon quipped back and Sansa let out another giggle. Jon watched her as she did and he gave her a smile. “I’ve only gone into Law because I felt like it was something dad…” he paused and visibly swallowed. “Uncle Ned wanted me to do.”

Sansa shook her head slightly. “My dad just wants everyone in the Stark family to be happy. You know him well enough to know that, Jon. If being in Law School is truly making you miserable, we should find you something that does make you happy.” She then sat up a little straighter and began smiling as she clapped her hands excitedly. “We’ll make a list. I’ll use different colored pens for pros and cons and we’ll write out everything you like doing with your time. The thing you do the most in your spare time is what makes you the happiest... what?” She asked once she saw his face. 

Jon just kept smiling and he shook his head. He was looking at her like she was the most amusing thing he had ever seen, but he wasn’t doing it in a mocking way. Instead, he was looking as if he was fascinated.

Sansa knew that no one had ever looked at her like that before. Certainly not Harry. Certainly not Jon. Or at least she didn’t think so. Surely, she would have noticed if he had. 

“Nothing,” Jon said and shook his head and seemed to almost be shifting in his seat as if he was uncomfortable or embarrassed, but he kept his eyes on her. “I like this,” he then said. 

Sansa wondered what he liked. Eating dinner together? Spending time together? Talking together?

Sansa gave him a small, warm smile. “Me, too,” she agreed, somehow knowing that he meant that he liked all of it and she liked it, too. More than liked it. 

…

Jon paid the bill before Sansa could even reach her hand into her purse for her wallet and ignored her when she began protesting.

He slid from the booth and Sansa slid from her side, putting her coat back on. She stilled though when Jon came up behind her and helped her put it on, settling over her shoulders. She felt a drumming in her chest that she knew was her heart and it raced beneath her breastbone with no sign of slowing down. 

“Alright?” Jon asked, his voice murmuring close to her ear. 

“Yes,” she said nearly on a sigh, sounding completely breathless. 

She didn’t know what on earth was happening. This was Jon. There was no reason why he should making her pulse race or her stomach tighten as her eyes met his. He gave her his little smile then and she wanted to know more than anything what he was thinking. 

They left the pub, stepping back into frigid air – it now completely night around them. As they walked back towards the elementary school and to their two lone cars in the otherwise parking lot, Sansa slipped her arm through his, her fingers curling into his coat sleeve, and she walked a little closer to him. She told herself that she was just protecting herself against the wind and Jon’s body gave off a ridiculous amount of heat even in these temperatures. 

“Sansa,” Jon said suddenly and Sansa ripped her hand away, thinking that that was why he said her name. 

They stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and Jon turned towards her. He took her hand back, enclosing it in his and even through her gloves, she could feel his warmth. She looked down at their hands before lifting her eyes to his face. Jon paused and stared at her, seeming to be weighing something heavily in his mind, but then he stepped forward and lifted his other hand to the back of her head, cupping it, and Sansa just had enough time to gasp before he kissed her. 

The kiss was softer than she was used to. It was actually exactly how she always envisioned a first kiss to be. Shy and almost hesitant, but just firm enough to let her know that she was certainly not imagining this. Jon was kissing her. And she knew that he wasn’t imagining her to be someone else because he had said her name just before he moved his lips to meet hers. 

His hand clutched hers a little tighter and Sansa tilted her chin up just enough to match the pressure of his lips with her own. 

This did not feel wrong in the least. Why was kissing Jon not feel weirder or foreign to her? Why did this feel like everything she had ever wanted in a kiss without even realizing? Why did this feel like everything in a man kissing her than she had even known? Why did Jon kissing her feel like she was coming home?

Jon’s lips slowly extracted from hers and it took Sansa a moment for her eyes to flutter open. Jon was staring at her, his eyes deep and intense, staring into hers. 

“What are you doing?” She heard herself whisper. 

Jon didn’t answer straight away and he continued staring into her eyes as if he was doing his best to memorize them. “What makes me happy,” he whispered back. 

Sansa did not hesitate and was now the one to tilt her chin back up and kiss him. 

…

**Author's Note:**

> Since I am mixing modern with more old-fashioned aspects, I am considering the Houses in the North to be like Royal Houses and royalty have had no problems throughout history having cousins develop relationships with one another. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
